


Hologram

by Pink_Saber



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Like, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan is a droid, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, he's a hologram
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_Saber/pseuds/Pink_Saber
Summary: Obi-Wan is a hologram.He has no hands to fight with, nor does he have a real voice. But Obi-Wan has a heart.Nobody is ready for it.OrObi-Wan doesn't have a body. He's still a disaster.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 35
Kudos: 259





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right. This is... something. A fun thing to write that will hopefully be as fun to read.

The disk in his hand was only about the size of his palm. On a basic level the device was quite simple. It had a memory disk, a hologram projector and a speaker. But, according to the actual _force presence_ in the disk, it was the most advanced technology the galaxy had ever seen.

The hologram projector was sentient.

Mace Windu had the odd urge to bash his head into a wall, only to make sense of the ludicrous fact in front of him. Droids have developed personalities, of course. They’ve been _similar_ to sentients, but they’re fundamentally different in ways that made droids _not_ sentient.

Right there on his palm, with a blinking blue light, was a _sentient holo-droid._

“What are we going to do with it?” He could feel a headache forming already- there was no procedure to deal with this clusterkriff of a situation.

Yoda humphed, stamping his staff onto the council chambers. The other council members looked on with a mix of fascination and confusion, with a good dosing of _how in the force hells-_

“Do with _him_ , Master Mindu, not it. To the creche younglings go. And to the creche, initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi belongs.”

Yoda smiled- _smiled_ \- at the holodroid in his hands. A vein in Mace’s head twitched. Master Yoda could not be seriously considering putting a _droid_ in a _nursery-_

The hologram flickered to life in his palm, a strikingly colourful and realistic image of a red haired boy suddenly _there_ \- he nearly force propelled into the wall in his surprise. What was even more surprising was the _gratitude warmth innocence_ spilling out into the force around him.

The boy, looking barely three years, grinned, somehow the eyes sparkling in happiness like any other child.

“Thank you, Master Yoda,!” The boy bowed respectfully. The holodroid- _Obi-Wan_ \- hovered off his palm and settled by his side, and the image disappeared.

Yoda gave him a knowing smile.

“To the creche, you go?”

He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of a sentient droid becoming an initiate, it was kriffing insane. But, as the force wills it, here he was.

Mace looked at the droi- _Obi-Wan_ \- and allowed himself to smile. He felt as though the boy was watching him despite him not being visible. He could feel his hope and excitement tangible in the force, dancing around him like a bird in a field of flowers.

“If you’d follow me, initiate Kenobi, we will make our way to the creche.”

The disk, he decided to call Obi-Wan’s body, beeped in binary and whizzed around him. He had a feeling that rescuing Obi-Wan from those demented mechanics was something he would never regret.

“But Master Yoda, I don’t have hands. How am I ever supposed to _hold_ a lightsabre?”

Obi-Wan was never going to become a Jedi if he couldn’t even use the most essential weapon! He wasn’t even _real_. He had no body or no brain, he was just a droid with feelings-

“Gah!”

It didn’t hurt, but Yoda’s walking stick colliding with his disk was quite disorientating as it sent is camera lenses in a tizzy.

“Real, you are! A lightsabre, you can use!” Yoda said sternly.

Obi-Wan wished he had a head to bash against a wall, or a floor- anything. The six year old wanted to shove his arm right through Yoda’s head just to show him how _real_ his hologram arm is.

“The force you can feel. Flows around you, and in you, as it is with you.”

“Yes, I know. But- “

Yoda raised an eyebrow. Obi-Wan quieted instantly.

“The force is with you,” he repeated. He pointed to the training saber laying prone on the floor. It was so inconspicuous, but to young Obi-Wan, it was the biggest hurdle he had ever faced. “Immerse yourself in its embrace. Call with your feelings, and respond to you, the force _will_.”

Well, if that was annoyingly vague. At Yoda’s stern glance, Obi-Wan heaved a sigh with his vocoder.

He sunk into the force. He could feel the bright life glowing around him, the voices and heart songs of his fellow Jedi. There was a table with the imprints of a thousand different hands. A training lightsaber. He reached out to it, tugged at the threads surrounding the saber and-

It ignited, hovering innocently in front of him. He moved it to the left, then to the right, and gave it an experimental swing. He couldn’t believe it.

Obi-Wan whooped, and in his joy, he accidently turned off his projector. He didn’t notice, nor did he really care. Yoda smiled.

“I can use a lightsaber! I’m going to be a Jedi!”

“Mace.”

“Qui-Gon.”

“ _Mace_ ,” he stressed, “I am not taking another padawan. Certainly not some- some _droid.”_

His friend scowled at him, obviously unimpressed by his words. But he was being unreasonable! They had put a droid in the creche, given it a name and called it a sentient, and they were now trying to pawn their mistake off onto him. Even the idea that the _thing_ had a force presence was absurd. 

Cleary the council went insane in his absence, the living force didn’t inhabit hunks of metal!

“Obi-Wan is not just a droid. He is a boy-“ Obviously, Mace Windu had well and truly flipped a lid, “with outstanding academic results, high proficiency in duelling and an affinity for diplomacy. He is a remarkable young boy.”

Amusement crossed Mace’s features, probably from Qui-Gon’s absolute bafflement at the thought of a hologram _duelling_ with a lightsabre and being _proficient_ at it _._

“He has the force, Qui-Gon. It dances in in and around in. He does not need hands to be a Jedi. You will see.”

He said it with such certainty that Qui-Gon almost, _almost_ believed that a droid could be sentient. But his master raised him better then to be a pigheaded fool.

He drew himself up to his full height stiffly.

“I have no times for your games. If you’d excuse me, I have to…”

He trailed off, a sad and downtrodden boy appearing before his eyes. It was the droid, Obi-Wan. He could see a small disk floating below him and for a moment he wanted to smack it into a wall because this joke had gone on to far-

But he could feel him. In the force. Despair and resignation, his force presence of a painfully young boy that ,if he didn’t know better, was human.

“You’re- you are- I don’t understand?” he managed to stutter out. How can this be? This red-haired boy that he could see through like a plane of tinted glass- a _hologram_ \- he was real!

The boy just looked sad.

“It’s okay, Master Jinn. I don’t expect you to want me. I do not have a body. You can’t touch me or teach me like a normal person, as you said, am I but a droid.”

The way he said ‘normal’ was like Obi-Wan viewed himself as an other, something less than human. It was becoming crystal clear to Qui-Gon that that boy was more human than even he may be.

“I am sorry that Master Windu and I have bothered you. I will leave you in peace. May be force be with you, Master Jinn.”

The resignation in his voice damn near hurt, and if glares could kill he would be in the seventh circle of hell. Despite his gruff outer appearance, it was common knowledge that Mace Windu had a soft spot the size of Hutt Space for children.

Obi-Wan flickered out and his disk stared to float away, almost sadly.

“Wait”

The disk paused, hope teeming in the air so strongly he wanted to punch himself for causing Obi-Wan pain. He could hear the force loud and clear. He knows what he needs to do.

In a rush and a jumble of words he shouted, “Be my padawan!”

The disk froze. Obi-Wan flickered back to life.

“… Really?”

With absolute certainty, Qui-Gon nearly shouted an enthusiastic “Yes!”

Having a master was like everything an nothing he had ever dreamed of.

His master took having a bodyless student in stride. He never had to worry about burning his student- Obi- Wan could project his ‘body’ a surprising distance from his disk. Nor did his master have to feed or clothe him. Occasionally he gave him an oil bath, or downloaded some new clothes for him to wear (far, far too extravagant for his tastes).

There was one thing, however, that Obi-Wan was struggling with.

He desperately, desperately craved a hug, something he never had in his life. His friends always tried to make him feel included and wanted in their physical world, but even they could not touch him. He envied how they casually touched each other. To them, a brush of a shoulder was no big deal, nor was a hug. But he was made of metal, cold, unfeeling and so horribly alone.

It was something he dreamed of as a child. To feel warm arms embrace his body, to feel love on not just a spiritual level, but a physical one.

He wanted-

His master strode through the doorway, only rubbing salt into his hopeless desire.

“Padawan, I can feel your turbulent thoughts from the othersider of the temple.” His master sounded fond, but he could hear the undertone of worry in his voice.

Obi-Wan didn’t show himself. He does not know if he can cry, and he has no wish to find out.

His master waited patiently next to him, like a great wildebeest. Large, but gentle and nurturing, and patience that spanned over a hundred years.

“Padawan.”

His masters force presence touched his in an effort to offer comfort. He brushed it off.

“Padawan, tell me what is wrong. We can fix it together.”

His master sounded so sure of himself, that he could fix this problem that his troublesome padawan was spewing into the force like a six-year-old. He wanted to fling himself into his arms to feel that comforting strength, and that was the problem.

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” his master warned him, “Speak to me. It will do you know good to bottle up these feelings. You must release these emotions, but not before we deal with them together.”

Obi-Wan’s resolve crumbled. He flickered into existence, and to his surprise, his hologram started to cry without his consent. His circuits must need fixing.

“I-I want a hug!”

To his horror he lost the ability to speak functionally from his vocoder, a glitchy wail bursting from the speakers. He could feel his master’s confusion and shock in the force, and it only made him want to erase the last ten minutes from his memory bank.

“You want… a hug.” His master said it slowly, as someone came and told him that Plo Koon wanted to marry him. His heart sank. He didn’t expect his master to accept or understand him- force, Obi-Wan didn’t even understand Obi-Wan! He was a droid; he shouldn’t be wanting a hug!

He was ready to flicker away, dash into his room and never come out from under his bed again when his master firmly, but gently, grasped his disk.

“Obi-Wan, my child.” He was expecting a reprime of how Jedi don’t need hugs, and its not like he can have one anyway without a body, when a wave of _understanding_ flooded the force with such strength that he short circuited for a moment. 

His master’s eyes were full of warmth.

“Obi-Wan,” he said again, “meditate with me.”

Without waiting for his response, his master settled into a meditative pose and plunged into the force, nudging Obi-Wan along with him. His forcer presence enveloped his own and-

_Oh._

_Is this what a hug feels like?_

His master was warm and strong. He cradled his force presence like the most precious thing in the universe. Like a child.

Something deep inside Ob-Wan melted, turning into putty in Qui-Gon’s hold. He could feel _love love love_ so deeply and strongly he could weep and stay in this hug forever.

He snuggled into his master’s force presence and tugged on their bond.

“ _Thank you,”_ he whispered, for this was the greatest gift he had ever received. His master hummed, sending more love across their bond that Obi-Wan soaked up like a sponge.

“For you, padawan, a hug is the least I could give.”


	2. Satine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!

Missions, for Obi-Wan usually went like this:

An ambassador greets his master with a respectful bow, completely ignoring the boy at his side.

“Master Jinn, welcome to Corellia. We are grateful you have been sent to negotiate a solution to the trade dispute on our behalf.”

His master smiled, his hands serenely folded behind him. “It is our duty as a Jedi. No need to thank us.”

The ambassador frowned, searching for another person in the hanger before his eyes fell on Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan hated the way the ambassador looked at him- like he was a thing, or a nuisance. He should be used to it, really, as no one really expects a droid to have feelings. 

“Master Jedi,” he chuckled, “I can assure you Corellia’s droids are one of the finest in the galaxy! There is no need to bring your own. Although I must applaud the quality of that holodroid, the colours are so crisp and vivid. Might I ask what model it is?”

Obi-Wan scowled.

“My _name_ is Obi-Wan.”

The ambassador had the gall to look surprised at how outspoken he is for a droid, before his face smoothed over in feigned interest.

“An 0B-1? I can’t say I’ve heard of it before.”

His master sent soothing reassurance through their bond. If he had a body, he imagines his master would have put a comforting hand on his shoulder. His master knew how much he despised these meetings. They always ended up with Obi-Wan being the freak show attraction- either the scientific marvel of a sentient droid, or a sign that the Jedi order had cracked. But he was never talked to in a conversation or valued as a Jedi. He was always just ‘the droid’.

His master cut in, “Obi-Wan is a Jedi Padawan. He may look like a droid, but he is as real as you or I. He will be assisting me in overseeing this trade delegation and I expect that a progressive planet like Corellia will treat my padawan with respect.”

The ambassador looked at Qui-Gon like he had suddenly gone insane. He smiled a bit stiffer, stood with a tenseness in his thin shoulders that wasn’t there moments before.

“Of course, Master Jedi.”

He invited them inside, speaking only to Qui-Gon despite his masters thinly veiled threat. But not for one second did he take his eyes off Obi-Wan. Distrust was burning deep in those icy spheres, but Obi-Wan refused to be cowed into flickering away and hiding.

Satine, on the other hand, entered his life like a speeder wreck. Fast, dangerous and utterly captivating.

They were on the run together, hiding from the Mandalorian’s that killed her parents. He expected her, like so many others, to look down on him. He was a droid, he had no body, no heart to speak of… many had outright laughed when he was assigned to them, but then sneered when they realised that he wasn’t some pathetic joke. To most people, he was a second-rate Jedi. An insult.

He was used to being ignored and overlooked, and he didn’t blame them, not really. Force, half the time he left his projector off, and he hadn’t met many people willing to talk to a hunk of durasteel outside of the Jedi.

So when Satine asked for a companion to walk with, he naturally assumed she was asking for Qui-Gon. His master had gotten to his feet, making his way over to the Duchess when-

“Pardon me, Master Jedi, I would rather Obi-Wan’s company,” she said, and Obi-Wan’s circuits froze. His holodisk froze mid-air from where it was leisurely floating around in lazy circles, and if he had his holo projector on, he imagined his eyes would be wide.

“M-me? You want to walk with me?”

The Duchess sniffed, “I want good company, not a cryptic space monk blundering after me.”

His vocoder made a funny wheezing sound. He scrambled for what to say, what to do. He was struck dumb.

Finally, his holoprojector flickered to life and he looked at her in bewilderment. “But I’m a hologram. Surely you want something more… real.”

She arched a delicate eyebrow, “I have no use for this ‘real’, Padawan Kenobi. Unless you’re implying that I desire the physical aspect of your master…?”

The physical aspect of his-

His processors stuttered and he shuddered, horrified. “No! Real- like comfort. Or- or protection!”

“You have a lightsabre?”

He blinked, “Well, yes-“

“And you can use it?”

“Of course I can-“

“Then you can protect me just fine.” The duchess smiled at him with sharp lines and warm eyes, “Besides, I rather like you. For a Jetii.”

He felt strangely vulnerable, like his wirings were exposed for her to see.

“You- you do?” Hope rose in his chest.

“Yes,” she said sincerely, her eyes kind, “You have a large heart, Obi-Wan, and a cunning wit,” she then smirked and stroked his holodisk. Obi-Wan gaped- was this appropriate? Honestly, he didn’t know. “And you're so well designed… shall we go?”

He nodded dumbly, floating after her.

“Do not feel pressured to keep your projection on, my dearest Obi-Wan. You are enough for me.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest. He flickered away, but she kept chatting. She asked him questions, laughed with him, encouraged him to speak… and he didn’t pick up a hint of disgust or regret once.

Yes, this Satine was nothing like he ever encountered. Yet somehow, despite everything, he thinks he loves her.

Qui-Gon watched his padawan and the duchess stride (and hover) away, engaged in a deep conversation.

He had no idea what he just watched. The duchess… flirted. He thinks. Maybe. Can a hologram even have a relationship with a human?

The sensible thing to do would be putting a stop to this budding attachment, but he can’t find it in his heart to do something so terribly cruel. 

He thinks of his padawan’s shy smile. His hope, his joy in the force… and he finds that he doesn’t care about the code. Not when this makes his boy so happy- an unfortunate rarity due to his body, or more accurately, his lack of body.

Instead, he lays back on the ground and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this went in unexpected directions. 
> 
> comment and kudus, you wonderful people!

**Author's Note:**

> I take ideas, so feel free to review and request!


End file.
